


I’m scared

by Mulberrywest



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26882581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mulberrywest/pseuds/Mulberrywest
Summary: Two iterations of a similar situation – one with Robin at the heart of it, the second with Strike. In both alternate scenarios, the good old London tube is playing up and our heroes find themselves stuck on the Central Line.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36
Collections: Striketober | Cormoran Strike Fictober 2020





	1. Chapter 1

“I’m scared.”  
“It’s OK – it will be OK,” he reassured her, feeling for her hand in the darkness. “Robin, I’m here – it’s probably just a power failure. Just breathe.” People around them were starting to fidget – you could the feel anxiety building in the stuffy tube carriage as the ten minute delay in the tunnel turned into thirty.  
“Will you hug me, Cormoran – I’m sorry – I think I must be a bit claustrophobic – rubbish time to find out,” she whispered, half nervously laughing.  
“Of course,” he edged towards her in the cramped space, his breath now warm against her forehead, arms around her back and shoulders, pulling her closer still. “Just think about Pat, probably cursing us now for being late for our meeting, searching for the biscuit stash.”  
As she buried her face into his chest, he felt her tears soak through his shirt.  
“Sh, Ellacott, I’ve got you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Version 2  
“… many thanks for your continued patience. I am trying to find out the cause of the delay,” the gruff tube driver’s voice echoed around the hushed carriage. People shifted in their seats and some removed coats, conscious of how airless it was. Strike leant against the glass partition, trying to make more space for Robin and to find a comfortable standing position. He looked pale, she noted.  
“Do you want a seat mate?” mumbled a teenage boy wearing Beats headphones and engrossed in a game on his phone. He was the only person in the carriage who didn’t appear remotely concerned about the darkness and the now-half-hour delay in a tunnel somewhere beneath Oxford Street. The boy’s eyes flicked down quickly to the metal rod emerging from the base of Strike’s trouser leg in the half light.  
“Yes, that would be great, thanks,” Robin replied quickly on Strike’s behalf, not giving him chance to say no and manoeuvring Strike round the edge of the seat and the now-standing youth so he could sit down. Strike flopped down heavily and she heard a sigh emerge from his lips. “That’s really kind,” Robin smiled at the teen, who was already immersed in his game again. She noticed that as well as looking pale, Strike had gone completely silent and a sheen of sweat had started to form on his forehead. “Cormoran, are you OK – is it your leg?” “No, I’m fine,” he replied irritably, “it’s been nearly half an hour – I’m not good in enclosed spaces, not since…” Fuck, thought Robin, seeing that his anxiety was mirrored by that of many of the other commuters – she wasn’t sure how much longer they could remain like this before someone became completely hysterical. The young woman next to Cormoran was starting to hyperventilate and the little girl next to her whimpered “I’m scared, mummy.”  
Suddenly, without warning, the train jolted and started to move. Shocked, Robin completely lost balance. She reached out for Strike’s arm at the last moment to break her fall and catapulted awkwardly into his lap.  
“Apologies ladies and gentlemen – we had an obstruction on the track at St Paul’s – trains have started to move but we may be stuck at the next station for some time,” the tube driver announced wearily. “I am so sorry,” Robin exclaimed, mortified, “I haven’t hurt you have I?” Strike’s breathing had returned to its usual cadence, tension released with the sudden movement of the train. He was gradually starting feeling more himself. “No it’s sort of comforting,” he stuttered, looking down at her, his arms still instinctively locked around her waist. “Comforting,” she giggled, “like a blanket? That could account for my lack of success with men.” “Not this man,” he teased gently, releasing her so she could stand up once more, her brain processing what he’d just said. “It’s just what I needed. Can we walk from Oxford Circus, not sure I can deal with any more of this.”


End file.
